


Make It Up to Me

by Chick4Chick2



Series: Sandor & Elisabeth [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, Alternate Universe - Navy, Cunnilingus, F/M, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 08:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13004064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chick4Chick2/pseuds/Chick4Chick2
Summary: Sandor Clegane is a bosun in the Royal Navy.  He meets and falls in love with Elisabeth Clark (original character) during the Peace of Amiens.  Unfortunately, he gets quite drunk the night before their wedding and decides he needs to make things up to her before the bedding.





	Make It Up to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mynameisnoneya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, mynameisnoneya! This is your real Christmas gift in addition to the Funko Pop figure. Basically, you tell me what pairing you want (you know the one I WON'T do) and I'll write you a smutty one-shot, lovely lady. I figure I could do one per month anyway. I hope you like that better than Fruit of the Month...lol. I did this as a series since I figured you might want more of Elisabeth and Sandor in the future but it's dealer's choice and you're the dealer.
> 
> To anyone else reading this...this is purely written for my good friend who wanted some Sandor smut :) Sandor and Elisabeth are drawn from another work with author's full permission ;)

Sandor Clegane had held his warrant as bosun in His Majesty’s navy for fifteen years. And though a wound had knocked him out of his place aboard the crack frigate _Queenscrown_ a few years earlier, serving aboard His Majesty’s Sloop _Alayne_ under Captain Jon Snow wasn’t so bad he reckoned for an old salt like himself.

Since he was just a younker, the sea had been his life. But that was before the Peace of Amiens came…and Elisabeth.

Elisabeth Clark had worked in her father’s tavern since she was just a slip of a girl. She’s still just a slip of a girl in his eyes. Long dark hair and sparkling blue eyes that Clegane had found enticing even as her pert mouth vexed him from the start.

Half-French, half-English, she’s a comely wench that Sandor longed to tumble. Well, she wasn’t some whore. She was a good girl despite her saucy tongue. They’d had a bit of kissing and teasing touches but never done more than that.

He told himself she was just another tavern girl because he couldn’t help but wonder what she saw in him. The scars on the side of his face from an exploding gun years ago did nothing to aid his looks and his personality didn’t exactly win him scores of friends. But there’s something she seemed to like about him and he liked the way she made him feel when she smiled at him.

_Don’t be a stupid arse, Sandor. She’s just being friendly. She don’t really like you._

Nevertheless, like a besotted moon-calf of a boy, what did he do the very first time _Alayne_ was in port again with the news of the Peace? Why, he dragged his captain to Clark’s Tavern under the pretense of having a drink…but really to see Elisabeth again.

And once he’d seen her again…kissed her again? Well…he wasn’t letting some other prick get hold of her now, was he?

And that’s how he found himself in front of a parson a couple of months later with Red Thoros grinning next to him and a noisy lot of seamen shifting about in the pews in their shore-going Sunday Best and trying to acquaint themselves with the unfamiliarity of the holy service without a heaving deck under their feet.

When Old Clark came down the aisle with his bride-to-be on his arm though, Sandor felt like perhaps the ground had tilted under his own large feet a bit here on dry land. Or perhaps it’s all the rum he drank last night.

_Damn me, the wench was right nettled when I came back to the tavern so pissed last night._

He had made a rather sad spectacle of himself.  Her father had sent her off to bed though and Sandor had gone off to his own room. Tonight, he planned on making all that up to her.

They stopped next to him at last and her father wiped his eyes and handed over his only daughter to Sandor’s keeping. Till the sea comes calling again, he’ll be staying at the tavern with them and helping the old man but Sandor could understand his tears.

The parson said a prayer and then started the brief Anglican service. Thoros put on his best church-going face as though he hadn’t had his face planted between a pair of random tits last night at the lower pot house where his mates had dragged them to have a drink over their bosun’s upcoming nuptials.

Then, when the parson asked for the ring, Thoros, the great sod, dropped it. Sandor suppressed a curse in this house of worship as it rolled across the floor and landed at Edd Tollett’s feet, the captain’s steward.

 _Should’ve asked Edd to stand up next to me_ , Sandor thought to himself as the pair of them bump heads diving for the little gold band.

He expected Elisabeth to be annoyed by this display but, when he turned to look at her with a regretful shrug, she was grinning like a cat in cream.

“Ready to make an honest woman of me at last, you old salt?” Elisabeth asked with a saucy wink.

“ _Ahem_ …aye,” he choked out as the parson’s eyebrows shot heavenward.

 

* * *

 

 

  
_Elisabeth Clark Clegane. Elisabeth Clegane. Mrs. Elisabeth Clegane. Mrs. Sandor Clegane._

 _They all have a nice ring to them_ , Elisabeth thought as she glanced down at the band around her finger and then over to her husband that was happily tearing a chicken leg to pieces with his teeth. He wiped a bit of grease off his chin and licked his lips. Elisabeth couldn’t wait to have those lips on her…all over her.

The sailors had been meek as cats at the start of the little reception following the wedding. In fact, Elisabeth’s more respectable friends seemed a bit disappointed as though they had expected them all to be roaring drunk and pestering maidens. Once the bottle passes around a few more times though, some of them became a bit freer in their language and a bit louder but she didn’t mind that. It’s not like her papa minded either. Tavern owners and their daughters don’t tend to look down their noses at men with good coin to spend on food or drink and seamen make good patrons overall.

She glanced back at her husband. For all his gruff ways, he was a good man. She knew how respectful he was to her father. She’d seen the way he’s respected by his fellow seamen. And he had a kind streak to him that he liked to pretend wasn’t there. She’d seen him giving little ragamuffins extra coin in the street when he thought no one was looking. She’d seen him give a stray dog a few bites of his dinner when the animal was hungry. That’s why she fell in love with him. He’s got a good heart under all that gruff exterior.

At long last, the toasts and cheers died down and Sandor gave her a randy look that made her unmentionables moist in an instant.

“Ready to make this official, Little Dove?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. He’d had a few drinks and his face is flushed. His dark eyes sparkled as they dipped down to her bosom and back up again.

“I’m ready,” she gulped.

She wasn’t exactly a blushing maiden as she had loved a young man a few years earlier. Jory Cassel had grown up in her little part of Portsmouth and was a fine man. They’d made plans to marry when he could earn enough coin. But he’d went off to be a soldier and not come home again. Elizabeth had mourned him when he died but been ready to look about again by the time Sandor first walked through the door of her father’s tavern.

They’ve dallied around enough for Elisabeth to be eager though she was still curious to see with her own eyes if part of him is as big as the rest of him.

And despite his scars, she thought he was plenty attractive. Perhaps his captain was a prettier man but Elisabeth didn’t want pretty. She wanted Sandor. Even if Captain Snow was a bachelor, which he wasn’t, she’d still have preferred Sandor.

They were celebrating at her father’s tavern but Sandor rented a room for the night elsewhere. It was sweet really. He had said he felt funny taking her for the first time under her father’s roof. She’s a practical girl and would ordinarily argue that such sensibilities aren’t worth the wasted coin but for tonight, she appreciated it.

A few of the seamen meant to follow them and make their bawdy comments. But one look from Sandor sent them scurrying away. That was another thing she loved about this man. No girl need worry when she had Sandor by her side.

They arrived at their room and were both a bit nervous.

“So, um…I’ll go check about our, uh…I’m going to see the innkeep for minute,” he said as he shuffled out the door.

Elisabeth smiled to herself and stripped out of her dress. If someone needed to take charge a bit, it might as well be her.

When he came back a few minutes later, he gulped to find her sprawled across the bed in nothing but her unmentionables and stockings.

“Hello, Big Boy,” she purred as he hurriedly barred the door.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he said. “What if some random rogue came peeking in the rooms?”

“Then he would’ve got a look at me before I screamed bloody murder,” she said. A faint whiff of wine met her nostrils and she asked sharply, “Have you been drinking again, Mr. Clegane?”

He bowed his great head and muttered that the innkeep wanted to wish him well and offered him a toast.

“It’d have been rude to refuse.”

“Since when have you worried about being rude?” she asked. “Drunk last night and half way there on our wedding day. What would my poor mama think? What would Papa say?” she lamented.

He grinned at her devilishly. He knew what game she wanted to play.

“I’ll make it up to you, Little Dove,” he promised.

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“I’ll show you,” he said as he stripped off his blue coat and neckerchief.

Elisabeth sat up, not wanting to miss any of him undressing for her. He pulled his shirt out of his breeches next and her eyes boggled at all the muscle on display. His chest was covered in hair but there was no hiding how strong he is.

Sandor shucked his breeches down next till he was standing in nothing but his own unmentionables. She could see the stiff peak sticking out at her from under them and she felt a blush coming on.

He strides over to the bed and cupped her face tenderly before he leaned down to kiss her. He angled his head to deepen the kiss and Elizabeth felt hot all over as his tongue swiped her mouth.

“You taste like liquor,” she said with a shrewishness she didn’t feel.

“Aye…and I mean to find out what you taste like now,” he grinned before he gently pushed her back on the bed and knelt at the foot.

“What are you…”

Her thought fled as she felt his large warm hands tracing their way up her stockings.

“Spread your legs, wife,” he murmured. She still wasn’t sure what he was about. He said he’d make things up to her but this wasn’t what she’d imagined. “No one’s tasted this but me?” he asked with a wicked glint in his eye.

“What do you…tasted my…uh…no. _Ooohhh_ …oui…” she sighed as he lowered his head.

She felt curious and a bit vulnerable with the unknown that awaited her. But she knew he would never hurt her and suspected this was about making her feel good.  
Sandor rose up to kiss her mouth, a slow, gentle kiss. Her hands fell over his shoulders, her legs parting automatically to allow him to lie between them. He pulled back, tracing kisses across her jaw, down her neck, her collarbone.

He glanced up at her, smiling at her continued curious gaze as she watched him brush a thumb along her chemise. Her eyes fluttered closed as he pulled it down and flicked one of her nipples with his tongue.

He put his hand on her other nipple, moving his thumb slightly, allowing it to flick across the tender bud and she moaned. He lowered his head and suckled at her making her wild for more.

“Is that what you meant by tasting me?” she teased.

“No,” he grinned.

He moved downward between the valley of her breasts to her unmentionables. He kissed her belly and her navel until he reached his destination. Her breath hitch as he pushed her legs up and apart.

She squirmed beneath his gazed and asked if she should take off her things.

“Leave ‘em on,” he said in a husky tone. “I’ll have you bare soon enough.”

He nudged the material apart and she knew he was seeing her womanhood. She gasped when he buried his nose in her curls and groans like a man about to indulge in a feast.

“So sweet and all mine,” he said sending shivers down Elizabeth’s spin.

She wasn’t sure what to expect but as he swiped his tongue along her slit, she cried out at the promise of pleasure and automatically bucked into him. He chuckled and she wanted to smack him for being so smug but when something felt this nice, she was powerless.

He kept his loving tongue sliding through her experimentally, listening to her cues; the soft, panting breaths. When his tongue brushed against her small nub, he gave it a small flick and the reaction was immediate. Elizabeth’s hips bucked again and her mouth fell open in astonishment. She found his eyes upon her.

“Hmmm…you liked that, I think.”

“Oui…I did,” she panted.

He descended again his fingers reaching up to spread her lips apart and lap at her entrance. Elizabeth gasped and her hands sought his shoulders, his hair, something to hold on to. Sandor smirked and then pushed his tongue inside of her.

“Mon Dieu,” she whined.

Again, Sandor returned his attention to the little bud of her sex. She couldn’t decide what she liked more; his tongue inside her or right there.

Her hands flew into his hair, gripping him tightly as her hips began pushing her up against his mouth in desperation. She was panting out little moans, growing higher each time and she felt embarrassingly wet. A heat spread through out here lower belly, coiling up tight and ready to be released.

Just when she didn’t think she could stand anymore, a light flashed behind her eyelids and she cried out his name, her thighs clamping around his ears.  
His smile grew soft as he looked at her. She was breathing heavily and felt flushed all over.

“Do you forgive your husband for getting drunk last night? Did he make it up to you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, “you made it up to me just fine.”

“Ready for the rest of my making things up to you?”

“Oui…oh, oui…I am.”

 


End file.
